Murphy Enjoys a Moment 'Alone' - A Reedus Fap Fest Story - BDS
by Elle Gardner
Summary: After a late night in the bar with his brother, Murphy wakes and finds a little time for himself. Filled with thoughts of beautiful woman and touches that excite him, Murphy enjoys himself. Rated M for sexual content. Masturbation, fantasy and a little religious kink.


Murphy was tired, though he hadn't done much all day but had a few too many beers and told a few too many jokes. He was ready to go home and go to bed. But his charming twin Connor seemed to have other plans. He was still sucking down whiskey like it was holy water, while he made time with Mary Catherine O'Malley, the prettiest girl Murphy had seen since they had gotten back to the homeland. She had long, red curly hair, appropriately sized breasts, a subtle laugh and she seemed to be always in the mood for sex. At least that's what it appeared, as she was always coming on to Connor. She and Connor had kissed a few times, he had let a hand wander up her shirt once in the corner of the bar, but for the most part it had just been 'getting to know you' kind of things.

Most nights she came to the pub with a friend named Mary Elizabeth - that one was interested in Murphy, attracted enough to fool around with him anyways. Two weeks ago he had walked her out to her 2002 Opel Astra. They had kissed for a while, then she slid her hand down his chest to his faded jeans where she started to rub his erection. Murphy had apologized for being so blatantly hard, but she just smiled and offered to suck on it. That sweet angelic girl had gotten on her knees, unbuckled him, pulled him out in the middle of the open parking lot and sucked him till he came, making him whimper out "_Jesus Christ_" as she swallowed him. Unfortunately, he hadn't seen her since. Mary Catherine had come into the bar last week and told him that Mary Elizabeth had been offended by the way he had used the Lords name in vain out by her car the week before. Murphy refrained from telling her that he never would have said it if Mary Elizabeth hadn't sucked him so deep that his eyes rolled back and he had almost blacked out.

The pub was closing and Murphy lit another cigarette as Connor and Mary Catherine kissed near the end of the bar. He watched her hand slide up his brother's thigh, venturing close to his manhood, but not close enough. The handful of people left in the bar tried not to look at the spectacle going on in the corner, but not Murphy. He just finished his beer, drew deep on his cigarette and watched as Connor got stalled at second base, again. She finally waved goodnight to Murphy, he tossed cash on the bar and collected his drunken brother for the long walk home to their cottage. Da would already be asleep by the time he dragged his brother there. "Com'on Conn, let's git yar sorry arse home. I wanna git some rest." Murphy half carried him as Connor waved to the bartender who had seen this scene unfold with those two before. Not always the same brother doing the carrying.

They walked or more liked staggered for the two miles along the dark, moon lit road. Connor switched between an Irish lullaby that he was singing just for Murphy, and a limerick that he was composing to Mary Catherine. Something about her breasts and her arse. Murphy suggested he save the limerick for a later date. They had stopped once so Connor could lean against a tree and piss - he did that singing as well. Murphy didn't mind how loud or slow his brother was being. There wasn't much Connor did that didn't make Murphy laugh or smile. And even though they were hiding from the law, they both went out of their way to keep things light. Tonight it was dirty limericks.

The cottage was dark, Da had fallen asleep on the sofa and Connor was getting mouthier as the trek home went on. Taunting him about not having a girl to kiss tonight, bragging how he had almost felt Mary Catherine up tonight. Murphy muttered an apology to his father for waking him and declined the offer for help to their room. Murphy dropped his gun on the dining table and pulled Connor's out of the back of his jeans - they never left the house without one. Connor was sloppy when he drank whiskey, sliding down the hallway wall to their room near the end, but he found his way to his own bed and sat down. "Thanks, brother. Ya always take such good care of me."

Murphy kissed his cheek. "I know, Conn, I know. Now let's git ya undressed and into bed." Murphy knelt in front of him and started at his brother's boots, unlaced them and pulled them off. Connor was trying to lay down, so Murphy took the cigarette out of his brother's mouth and finished smoking it. "'old up brother." He made him stay awake just long enough to get his jeans off, his button up shirt tossed away and his rosary beads dropped to the floor. Connor was beyond ready for sleep.

He took Murphy's face in his hands and with whiskey wafting from his breath he slurred a whispered, "I love ya Murph." He kissed Murphy's forehead and wormed his way into bed. Murphy just smiled as he got up, undressed himself and went to the next room to take a piss. When he came back he pulled off his own rosary beads, kissed the cross and hung it next to the door. Murphy was asleep before he pulled the blanket all the way up.

The dark haired brother woke with a shot, he listened into the night, he couldn't figure out what had woken him. Connor was snoring lightly, the wind was howling, but nothing seemed out of place. He rarely slept through the night since they had started their missions from God. Waking to every noise, dreams he couldn't remember that shook him to the core. Not Connor, he slept like the dead, always had. Sometimes it pissed Murphy off, but most nights he appreciated it because it was almost like being alone but never actually having to be apart from his twin. He laid back in his bed taking inventory of the house one more time and watched the night sky through the window. So much clearer than Boston had been.

The image of Mary Catherine kissing his brother flashed in his head. Her red hair flowing around her. He knew she smelled good, she had kissed him on the cheek when they arrived and he had noticed her clean soapy smell. He didn't often go for the Irish looking girls, but this one made his cock stand up and take notice. Even more than the one that had sucked him off. The memory of that blow job was still fresh in his mind. It had been a year since anyone besides himself had made him cum and he was going to have to fix this obscenity problem if he wanted another shot at her. So many random thoughts poured through his head. Getting sucked, that mane of red hair, the way her mouth worked against his brother's perfect lips. Murphy slid his hand over his boxer shorts. Murphy rarely ignored his cock when it wanted attention, especially when Connor was sleeping so soundly. He thought back to the last woman he had slept with in America, the California-looking blond with the fake tits. He fondled his balls first, ignoring his dick, as he thought back to sex with her, her tits bouncing as he pounded her hard. Connor in the next bed of their crappy apartment with some brunet. He gripped at his balls rubbing the fabric across the top of his cock. If he had known it would be this long since he would get laid again, he would have fucked her twice.

The precum wanted to drip, but the boxers were catching it. He pulled them down, freeing himself but catching the elastic waistband under his balls to hold firmly in place. He stroked and watched in the moonlight as a drop of precum rose to the tip then dripped down, onto his stomach. Murphy dragged his finger through it and licked it clean. Mary Elizabeth had such a wet mouth, he remembered that most about her sucking him. More than the cattle truck that he watched lumbered by in the night or the way she let her hair skim across his flesh, he remembered the warm, wet hole she had allowed him to use while he had been thinking about the girl his brother was inside kissing at the same time. Murphy scrubbed his free hand over his face as he stroked firmly up and down his shaft. He felt guilty that he had been thinking of another woman during that blowjob. Hell, he had even confessed that week to coveting something that belonged to his brother when he had knelt in the confessional. Father Malloy had assured him that it was natural to covet, but it took a strong man to keep from acting on those impulses. That day Murphy had wrapped his rosary beads around his right hand and knelt in the pew for twenty minutes praying that he would never act on the urges he had for Mary Catherine. Murphy trailed his fingers over the cross that was tattooed on the arm he was using to stroke himself. He couldn't really see it in the dark, but he knew every inked ridged of that Celtic cross. It was virtually identical to his brother's but sometimes, when Murphy was tracing his fingers on Connor's arm, he could feel the differences.

The stroking felt good, up to the tip with a long strong motion then twisting the head of his uncut cock pulling the skin back down exposing the tip, over and over he enjoyed the gentle glide of skin as he tried to edge himself to orgasm. He was tired, and sleep was calling, but not enough to give up this pleasure. He pulled out the big-gun fantasies. He thought about things more taboo, things that turned him on in ways he knew shouldn't. The memory of Connor's face splattered with blood, not theirs, but that of a mobster. The gun still in Murphy's hand but his cock twitching when he saw the red splattered on his brother's angelic face. He thought back to the woman he and Connor had shared one night. A girl Connor had met on a T-ride in Boston, one he thought Murphy would really like. He had brought her home as a gift, but she insisted on both of them. None of it was working tonight. The problem wasn't the memories or the fantasies, it was simply the friction.

Murphy looked across the room to the door frame and instantly decided those six feet were too far to go. He twisted to reach the floor and picked up Connor's wooden rosary beads. Fixing his pillow he laid back down and listened as Connor continued to snore. How many times he had jerked off with his twin just a few feet away. Hell, Connor had done the same thing more times than Murphy's light sleeping mind liked to admit. Murphy wrapped the length of the beads around the back of his hand and looped it around every other finger. The straight chain to the cross hung across his own cross tattoo. Slowly at first but with a firm touch he began to stroke his cock again, this time the beads massaged along his shaft, pushing and affecting him in ways that his hand alone never did. Murphy had given up years ago trying to understand or feel guilty about the fact that his sexual satisfaction was tightly aligned with his Catholic faith. He had simply acknowledged the fact that he enjoyed sex more when it was in a church; he had a thing for Catholic girls who liked to do things they'd need to later confess; and that he came hardest when he masturbated with a set of rosary beads wrapped around his hand. If he ever had sex again, he would then struggle with the fact that he felt most comfortable doing it while his brother was nearby; but prospects of that were not on the horizon right now.

The worn wooden beads rolled along his shaft and he used his left hand to fondle his testicles, now settling into a favorite memory. Losing his virginity. He let go of his balls and found his nipple as he thought back to Fiona. She had been two years older and she had dragged him into the St. Stephen's Church, pushed him into the confessional booth and promised she would give him something to have to confess that week. And even though it was awkward and uncomfortable and he came too quickly, he had loved the fact that she had talked dirty in his ear the whole time while the rosary beads she was wearing lodged between the breasts he was sucking. When he orgasmed he moaned out, "_Christ_", and Connor reprimanded him from outside the door where he was standing watch. They dated for two months and she showed him parts of the church he never knew existed, even as an altar boy. Connor's rosary felt good tonight, laced perfectly in his hand stimulating him and bringing him closer to orgasm. He could have edged off, slowed his pace, but he felt greedy and wanted to cum quickly now. He tried to picture Fiona in the confessional but the image blurred into Mary Catherine, her curly red locks that he wanted to see spread across his thighs as she knelt between his legs and sucked him off. He spit into his left hand and dripped it down his cock, the beads getting slick now and rolled even more gently than before. If he had been looking he wouldn't have been able to keep track of how quickly his hand was moving. Final thoughts of Connor's girlfriend seated on Murphy's cock riding him, while Connor watched from the next bed, pushed Murphy to orgasm. A sputter first, but then a ribbon of cum that leapt up then landed on his stomach. Murphy grunted out "_Jesus Christ_", as his breath hitched and his hips rose up off the mattress, stretching the muscles in his back as well as his calves. The rest of his load oozed out of the tip as he held the skin back, it trickled over his fingers and along the beads. He started to pant as he loosened the grip he had.

"Lord's name, Murph." Connor was half asleep and still a little drunk, but always the watchful brother, he corrected Murphy for his sin.

Murphy rolled his eyes. "Go back ta sleep Conn." Murphy stroked loosely. He'd rubbed half his cum into his skin before he went to wash it off. He listened to Connor's breath even out again as he unwrapped the beads from his hand, he wouldn't see the red marks they were leaving till he was in the bathroom washing them clean. When his heart rate settled he got out of bed and went next door to clean his hands, his dick and his stomach. The beads rinsed clean and he dried them before shutting off the light.

As he walked back in he kissed the cross and hung the beads on the same hook as his own. He wondered if he should confess his laziness this week. Using Connor's beads instead of his own. Why start confessing that now, he never had before. He walked close to Connor's bed checking on him.

The sandy haired brother rolled over. "Ya hung up my rosary for me Murph?" He snuggled into his blanket tighter.

"Aye." Murphy brushed his clean hand down his brother's cheek the returned to his bed.

As the quiet settled in the room Connor whispered, "that was a good one brother."

Murphy smiled. "Aye, t'was. Now go ta sleep."


End file.
